


The Words We Say (The Pain We Write)

by GinnyBloomPotter



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Loneliness, No Incest, No one dies though, Post-Book, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya makes bad choices, because fuck that noise, but she's trying her best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyBloomPotter/pseuds/GinnyBloomPotter
Summary: Vanya's not doing well, after the book. She thought it would fix everything. She was wrong.So who could really blame her if she wanted to pretend that her dead brother was listening to her ranting?She didn't expect Ben to actually hear her. And she didn't expect him to come back with backup.





	1. I've Got Better Luck in My Head (Playing Poker With the Dead)

**Author's Note:**

> So I promised myself I wouldn't post this until it was complete but I lied to myself. It's going up now. What a stupid plan. 
> 
> But I hope you enjoy it. The plot bunny had been nibbling for a few days before I started this. I'm excited to actually be doing something with it. 
> 
> Chapter title is from "This Side of Paradise" by Hayley Kiyoko
> 
> WARNING: This story does mention depression, thoughts of suicide, drugs, and other unhealthy behavior. If that isn't for you, don't read.
> 
> With that said, enjoy!

_ Vanya _

The empty apartment that greeted her when she got home from rehearsal was a pretty good reminder that nothing has really changed. 

She didn’t know what she expected when she published that book-- maybe for her siblings to all up and decide that they were assholes and embrace her and they’d live happily ever after together? That she’d make friends and be less lonely? Something?

But no. The book made a splash for a couple of weeks but it didn’t take long for interest to wane and for her words to be tossed out and forgotten. 

And now, there she was, a month later and little to show for it. 

Her siblings hadn’t made any effort to contact her. She didn’t even know that they’d read it. 

Honestly, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if they hadn’t. 

God, she was tired. 

She took a seat on her couch to avoid the table behind it that held a copy of the book. 

She couldn’t look at it today. Not now. Not ever. Writing it had been such a mistake. Publishing it had been a bigger one. 

She lay down across the cushions and tried not to cry. She slipped a pill into her mouth and swallowed it dry. She stared at the ceiling for an hour. She knew she should probably eat something for dinner, but she didn’t have the energy to care.

She hated when she got like this. She always started hearing things that weren’t there. Whispers and murmurs and she couldn’t even really  _ hear  _ them, it was more of just a feeling, but it made her feel uncomfortable. Like people were staring at her, calling out to her, except she couldn’t  _ really _ hear them and she couldn’t see them at all. 

Sometimes, when she was lonely enough, she pretended that it was Ben’s ghost. She knew it probably wasn’t. She knew she was being ridiculous. But she missed him. So much, sometimes, too much. He and Five had always tried the hardest, had always been warm and welcoming towards her, even when the other four were trying their damnedest to exclude her. So it only stood to reason that Five would be the one to disappear and Ben would be the one to die. 

Klaus, she thought, could probably see Ben. She couldn’t prove that, but there was no reason to think otherwise. She wished he’d be honest about it. She wished she could talk to him. 

The whispering feeling was intense. She sat up. Without thinking about it, she spoke. 

“I don’t know who you are,” she admitted aloud. “I don’t know if you’re Ben or if you’re just a random ghost or if no one’s there at all and my mind is playing tricks on me, but… I’m going to pretend it’s you. Because I miss you. And because I wish I could talk to you.”

“God, I miss you. It sucks being alone. At least when you were around, I wasn’t totally alone. Even though I kind of was, I guess. But at least you pretended to care, you know? 

“And I hate this. I hate that I’m making your death kind of about me because it doesn’t feel appropriate, you know? It feels… selfish and dirty and awful but I guess that’s what grief is? A just… It’s a totally selfish process. You’re not sad because they’re gone, you’re sad because it makes things harder for you in whatever way it does. So yeah, it feels selfish and stupid and like I shouldn’t be feeling it, but what else am I supposed to feel? 

“And...god, it’s been so long. It probably shouldn’t still hurt this much, but it still does. I guess that’s what being alone does to you? Makes you feel things stronger than you should and makes you do stupid things.

“Stupid like writing that fucking book. I probably shouldn’t have. I knew that as I was writing it. I told myself ‘Vanya, this is stupid; don’t fucking do it,’ and then I did it anyway and just to say fuck you to that voice in my head that told me not to, I sent it to a publisher too, and now it’s out there and I can’t take it back.

“Did you read it? Did Klaus? God he probably hates me. Does he? Do you? I don’t know if I could handle it if you hated me. Or him. If the others read it, they almost definitely hate me, but I don’t know that I care so much about that. It’s not like it would be any different than what was already par for the course. Please just… if you haven’t read it, just don’t. Don’t. You’ll hate me and I can’t… Please…

“Fuck. I wish I was better at listening to my head, you know? I guess when… things are muted for me. Feelings and shit like that. And so when my heart talks, I tend to listen-- I let it affect me too much and then I don’t do the things I know I logically should do. I should probably see a therapist about all that, but it’s really fucking expensive. It’s why I stopped going in the first place, you know? It was great for the three months I could afford it but then my rent went up and my insurance stopped covering part of the costs and it was just… too much. 

“Everything’s always just too fucking much.”

She stopped for a minute, breathing hard to avoid bursting into tears. It wasn’t working. Helplessly, her breath caught in a sob that sent tears leaking out of her eyes. 

“I’m so fucking tired, Ben,” she whispered, eyes falling shut. She almost felt the pressure of a hand on her shoulder, a shift in the air, but she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, so she told herself she was imagining it. 

She was able to keep from sobbing again, but the tears continued to fall, unbidden, from her eyes, through her closed lids. 

“I think... “ she couldn’t believe she was about to admit this, but either Ben could hear her and he’d keep quiet, or he’d go tell Klaus who wouldn’t do anything about it because he didn’t really care, or she wasn’t actually saying this to  _ anyone _ and so it wouldn’t even matter. “I think the only reason I’m still breathing is because I’m too fucking tired and useless to actually go through with ending it.”

Hell, maybe she should end it. She pushed herself to go to work everyday. She pushed past the exhaustion to do a whole lot of shit. She could push past it for this too. 

Just… after she took a nap.

“I really do miss you, Ben. And I really… I really hope that you’re okay. That you’re happy where you are. Promise-- promise me you’ll keep Klaus out of trouble? Or you’ll try, at least? He doesn’t… he won’t listen to me. I’ve tried, but he doesn’t… he was never receptive to me. Maybe you can get through to him. You just can’t give up on him, okay? Promise...”

Heart pounding wildly, Vanya bolted upright. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but a glance at the clock told her that four hours had passed and a swipe at her cheek told her she’d been drooling. 

She looked around the apartment, trying to identify what had woken her up. She heard a faint voice outside of the front door, and then a brief knock, before the voice got louder and angrier.

She stood to go and open the door.

“...Klaus?”

* * *

_ Ben _

Sometimes Ben thought everything might have been easier if it hadn’t been Klaus that he was tied to for the rest of his afterlife. 

Not that he had any choice in the matter. No one  _ else _ could see ghosts, after all. 

But sometimes, when Klaus was being particularly pig-headed and refusing completely to listen to him, he found himself fantasizing about what would be different if Klaus had been the one born without powers and Vanya was the one who could commune with the dead. 

Those fantasies always ended in Vanya dead in an alley, killed by a drug dealer for refusing to have sex with him in return for the heroin. 

Because that’s why Klaus used the drugs in the first place, after all. To silence the ghosts. Remove the ghosts, you remove the drugs. Give the ghosts to someone else, and  _ they _ might end up being the ones addicted.

Or maybe Klaus just had an addictive personality.

And Ben… sometimes he just needed a  _ break _ . He didn’t love having to drag Klaus back from the edge over and over and over again, he didn’t like that he couldn’t have conversations with anyone else anymore, and he  _ hated _ trying to protect and watch out for a brother who wouldn’t listen to him most of the time.

So sometimes, when Klaus slept, or was too high to function but not high enough that he was in danger, Ben left. He went to check on Luther, or Diego, or Allison when she was in town. Usually, he went to check on Vanya.

Of all of his siblings, she was the one he worried most about. He wasn’t sure she could function as a person, especially not on her own, and so he usually popped by her apartment when he wasn’t trying to pull Klaus’s head out of his ass, just to make sure she was still alive. 

And he heard a lot of her rambles. Somehow, she knew when he was there-- not always, but sometimes-- and she’d talk to him.

She always started with this little preamble, a whole “I don’t know if you are who I think you are, but if you’re not, just do me a favor and don’t say anything to anyone.” Then she moved into platitudes. How much she missed him. How shitty things were without him. It got repetitive, but he loved it, because he could pretend he could respond. That he was having a conversation with someone that wasn’t high 99% of the time. Then she usually just talked about whatever was happening in her life, ranting a little bit, but never saying anything that warranted worry. And it was good to hear. It really was.

He hadn’t gone to see her since he and Klaus read the book after it came out a month ago, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about that, because the book hurt. She didn’t hold back and she didn’t seem to care who else was affected by what she wrote. He had never known her to be so callous, and that actually really scared him because he’d been watching out for her, goddamnit. Shouldn’t he have seen it coming? Shouldn’t he have noticed patterns that could be indicative of that-- the anger and the loneliness and the feelings of betrayal that had led to a book like that? 

So, no. He didn’t really want to see Vanya. 

But then he and Klaus got into an argument. Klaus was more impressed with the ballsiness of the book than anything else-- or at least, that was what he told Ben-- but he still didn’t really get  _ why _ she wrote it, and was pissed that she hadn’t said anything to him.

He got mad at Ben when he pointed out to Klaus that it was likely because he tended to avoid their sister whenever possible. He got madder when Ben admitted that he could see why she’d done it-- how the anger and resentment and loneliness could build up over the years and how it could warp you into doing things you never thought you’d be capable of.

“What does she have to be angry over? Who exactly is she resentful of?” he’d protested. “If she’s lonely, then let her go out and make friends. Get over herself a bit. I mean, fuck. She’s blowing everything out of proportion a little bit, isn’t she? I mean, yeah okay, Dad excluded her, but at least he wasn’t torturing her!”

“We excluded her quite a bit too--”

“No, we didn’t! She isolated herself, and Dad forced us away from he--”

“What about all of those times we forgot to invite her places? I can remember at least three separate times that we snuck off somewhere as kids and came back to see that Vanya had been left home and  _ still  _ covered for us, even though we couldn’t bother to take her with us. I remember us all sneaking into the media room at midnight for a movie and then realizing when she’d come to investigate the sounds that we hadn’t noticed she wasn’t there. That wasn’t Dad’s fault, that was us--”

“Don’t start with me, Ben. It’s not like I would’ve noticed half of what was flying anyway.”

“Yeah, because you were too busy getting high to notice. But we still should’ve-- I mean, listen, the book is fucked up, but can’t you see, at least a little bit, why she’d write it? Nothing that she said resonated with you at all?”

Then Klaus started refusing to engage in the conversation anymore. Ben got sick of waiting on him, and so he turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Klaus complained.

“To do ghostly things. Don’t wait up. I’ll find you later, when you’re being less of an ass.”

“You’re going to leave me alone while I’m awake and risk me finding my way to the nearest dealer?”

“You’d do it if I was with you. It’s not like me leaving is going to change anything.”

“C’mon, Ben. Who do you think you’ll be able to talk to?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’ll catch up with you soon, Klaus. Don’t be stupid while I’m gone.”

And he left. 

He knew that some ghosts could sort of… blink in and out of existence. He couldn’t do that. But making your way through the streets when you don’t need to worry about traffic or anything wasn’t so bad. And he didn’t really have  _ limbs _ , so it wasn’t like he could get tired. Technically, he wasn’t even really  _ walking _ so much as gliding while his legs moved.

So getting to Vanya’s apartment wasn’t exactly difficult. 

The hardest part was fighting against the part of him that was still angry with her for what she’d written. After his argument with Klaus, he’d mostly come to the determination that, while shitty, the book was, at the very least, understandable. He knew, now, what it was to be alone. To be ignored. And for him, it wasn’t even anyone else’s fault. He was  _ dead.  _ Talking to him wasn’t even an option.

He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to know that people don’t talk to you, not because they can’t, but because they actually don’t want to.

But part of him was still so upset about it, about the harsh words and the criticisms that they, admittedly, had at least partially earned. And he had to actively try and tell that part of himself to fuck off. He mostly succeeded.

Vanya had just arrived in her apartment when he got there, and the first thing he noticed was how  _ tired _ she was. She looked… she looked like she’d given up, and that punched him right in the gut.

“Hi, Vanya,” he said, knowing she couldn’t hear him. He didn’t quite care. “I’m sorry I haven’t come around in so long. That… we read your book, Klaus and I, and… well, I was pissed. That was a fucked up book, you know that right?”

He watched as she slipped a little white pill into her mouth and swallowed. She looked like she wanted to cry. 

“I still-- I think I get why you did it now,” he tried to reassure. “I think I understand it a bit. And I felt bad for not coming by and I was worried and-- I’m sorry, Van--”

He broke off in the middle when she sat up.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said, and he groaned, because there she went again, starting off her spiel. “I don’t know if you’re Ben or if you’re just a random ghost or if no one’s there at all and my mind is playing tricks on me, but… I’m going to pretend it’s you. Because I miss you. And because I wish I could talk to you.”

Okay so that admission rarely happened. The “I miss you” was nothing new, but the “I’m pretending, so humor me,” was more honest than he was used to.

“God, I miss you. It sucks being alone. At least when you were around, I wasn’t totally alone. Even though I kind of was, I guess. But at least you pretended to care, you know?”

He wanted to argue with that, protest that he was never pretending, but that wasn’t always true, and besides, it wasn’t like she could hear him. 

“And I hate this,” she continued. “I hate that I’m making your death kind of about me because it doesn’t feel appropriate, you know? It feels… selfish and dirty and awful but I guess that’s what grief is? A just… It’s a totally selfish process. You’re not sad because they’re gone, you’re sad because it makes things harder for you in whatever way it does. So yeah, it feels selfish and stupid and like I shouldn’t be feeling it, but what else am I supposed to feel?”

Well, that was an interesting take. 

“And… god, it’s been so long. It probably shouldn’t still hurt this much, but it still does. I guess that’s what being alone does to you? Makes you feel things stronger than you should and makes you do stupid things.”

“Stupid like writing that fucking book?” he couldn’t help but ask, and it was almost like a response when she spoke again.

“Stupid like writing that fucking book. I probably shouldn’t have. I knew that as I was writing it. I told myself ‘Vanya, this is stupid; don’t fucking do it,’ and then I did it anyway and just to say fuck you to that voice in my head that told me not to, I sent it to a publisher too, and now it’s out there and I can’t take it back.”

Well, at least she regretted it?

“Did you read it? Did Klaus? God he probably hates me. Does he? Do you? I don’t know if I could handle it if you hated me. Or him. If the others read it, they almost definitely hate me, but I don’t know that I care so much about that. It’s not like it would be any different than what was already par for the course. Please just… if you haven’t read it, just don’t. Don’t. You’ll hate me and I can’t… Please…”

“No!” he immediately shouted. He never hated her. He was pissed but how could he possibly hate her? She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. Which, he supposed, from her perspective, he hadn’t.

“Fuck. I wish I was better at listening to my head, you know? I guess when… things are muted for me. Feelings and shit like that. And so when my heart talks, I tend to listen-- I let it affect me too much and then I don’t do the things I know I logically should do. I should probably see a therapist about all that, but it’s really fucking expensive. It’s why I stopped going in the first place, you know? It was great for the three months I could afford it but then my rent went up and my insurance stopped covering part of the costs and it was just… too much.”

Huh. He didn’t think she’d gone to therapy. That was good. At least she could admit she needed help. 

“Everything’s always just too fucking much.”

She stopped for a minute, breathing hard. Tears started dripping down her face, and she sobbed once, and it was like a punch in the gut that, by all rights, he shouldn’t have felt, because he was a fucking ghost and couldn’t really feel anything. 

“I’m so fucking tired, Ben,” she whispered, eyes falling shut. 

And he tried to comfort her. He hovered a hand over her shoulder, careful not to let it fall through, hoping she could feel him, but there was no response.

She was still crying.

“I think… I think the only reason I’m still breathing is because I’m too fucking tired and useless to actually go through with ending it.”

Oh god no. No no no no no no no no no...

“I really do miss you, Ben. And I really… I really hope that you’re okay. That you’re happy where you are. Promise-- promise me you’ll keep Klaus out of trouble? Or you’ll try, at least? He doesn’t… he won’t listen to me. I’ve tried, but he doesn’t… he was never receptive to me. Maybe you can get through to him. You just can’t give up on him, okay? Promise...”

She fell asleep, and he barely noticed. He dashed to make it outside, and tried to find Klaus, to warn him, to get him to stop her. 

He knew it was bad, but he hadn’t thought it was  _ that _ bad. He hadn’t thought it was  _ kill herself  _ bad. 

He never thought he’d say thank god for depression, but yet, here he was, praying fervently that she’d stay too tired to follow through. 

He loved his sister, but that didn’t mean he wanted her keeping him company in the afterlife. 

No matter how far apart they got, there was always a tether somewhere in his gut that led him back to Klaus. It must be the thing that drew so many other ghosts to his brother. Ben was operating consciously enough that he could defy that tether and leave Klaus’s side, but he always had a surefire way of finding him again, even if he wasn’t where he’d left him. Relying on that tether, he found Klaus at one of the homeless shelters in the city, the nice one that didn’t let him in when he was high and was usually full, but had the best beds if you could get there before five o’ clock. 

If Ben could breathe, he would’ve been panting with how fast he’d run back to his brother’s side. 

“Klaus, you need to go check on Vanya.”

Klaus shot into a more upright position from his lazy sprawl across the bed. He was tense and upset.

“I don’t have anything to say to her, Ben.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just keep her from wanting to die.”

Klaus had been studiously avoiding his gaze, but his eyes flicked up to meet Ben’s at that. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I went to see her, and Klaus… It’s not good.”

Stubbornly, Klaus refused to soften, but Ben could tell that something behind his eyes looked scared and unsure. 

“Who cares? She deserves a little bit of… after what she pulled, Ben, I’m finding it hard to care.”

“She regrets it, Klaus. She knew it was a mistake as she was doing it, and now she hates herself, and she thinks you hate her and she wants to die, Klaus. The only reason she’s still alive is because she’s too tired to do anything about it.”

“And how would you know that--”

“She talks to me! She can’t-- I don’t think she can see ghosts or anything, not like you can, but she can somehow… I think she can feel when I’m there, sometimes, because she sometimes starts talking to me. It’s usually nothing concerning, just… you know, ‘Hi, I miss you, violin’s going great, I think I might start using my vacation days to stay home and sleep some more, ok, great, good talk.’ Today though… it sounded like she’d given up. Like she knew she’d fucked up and she didn’t think she’d be able to come back from it. And she was so tired… I really think she might do something stupid, Klaus. She’d just fallen asleep when I left but you need to go to her.”

The fear behind Klaus’s eyes intensified, but still, he held on to his reluctance. 

“She’ll be fine,” he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than like he was trying to convince Ben. “She… she wouldn’t…”

“You didn’t hear her. She would. If she gets up the energy to, she could.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that, exactly? I can’t even take care of myself. How am I supposed to convince her not to… you know…”

“She wants to because she’s alone. I told you. Loneliness… it makes you do stupid things. And Vanya’s never really been the best with impulse control. I think the only reason she hasn’t done even more stupid things is because she didn’t think of it-- because a lot of things, feelings and stuff, are numbed by those anxiety drugs she takes, and so she doesn’t get the… well, impulse, to do much of anything. But if she… Klaus, if she gets the wrong kind of impulse…”

“And why is this my responsibility to fix?” Klaus complained. “The way she screws up her own life is her own problem to deal with--”

“I never said it was your responsibility-- actually, you know what? It is. Because if you know that she’s doing poorly and you do nothing to stop her… that’s on you. She-- she has proven, time after time, that she would do anything-- anything!-- to make sure you were okay. How many times has she sought you out? How many times has she been waiting for you in the hospital when you woke up after an overdose? How many times has she offered up a place for you to stay if you needed it? The book was a shitty, stupid thing to do, but she regrets it and she feels bad about it and now she wants to… If this was you, she’d do whatever she could to help. And you know that.”

Klaus was quiet for a long moment, and Ben could see that his resolve was weakening by the instant. 

Well, he supposed guilt was as good a motivator as any. 

“Tell me something, Klaus,” he tried to twist the knife just a little more. “How would you feel if you woke up in the morning and saw Vanya, as a ghost, waiting by the edge of your bed, because she’d been so lonely and tired that she killed herself?”

Another moment, and then Klaus was standing with a groan. 

“They’re going to give away my bed, you know,” Klaus grumbled. “I do this, and I’m going to have nowhere to sleep tonight.”

“You know Vanya would be more than happy to offer you her couch. You have no excuses, you ass.”

With an eye roll, Klaus left the room. 

“Fuck you too, Ben. Fuck you too.”


	2. Sometimes I Wonder If You'll Ever Let Me In (I Wish I Wish I Wish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya and Klaus talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to finish it in two. I hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Chapter title is taken from "I Wish" by Hayley Kiyoko

_ Klaus _

Klaus wasn’t nearly as done with Vanya after the book as he knew Luther, Allison, and especially Diego must be. If anything, he kind of admired her… spunk. But he wouldn’t lie-- that stuff that she wrote about him hurt. It hurt a lot.

He knew he didn’t exactly do anything to discourage his siblings from thinking he was a worthless junkie-- he hadn’t had a job in months, and that had only lasted a couple of days; he couldn’t find stable housing, he did any drugs he could get his hands on, and he slept around in order to do it-- but Vanya… he’d always thought Vanya had more respect for him than that. 

At least she didn’t make snide comments about the drugs every time she saw him. 

But what she’d written… well, it didn’t do much for his reputation. 

And now all that shit was  _ public _ . She’d put it out into the public sector, without talking to any of them first, and now, a whole lot of their family secrets, things no one was really supposed to know about were just…  _ out there. _ In public. And she didn’t seem to care. 

So yeah, it didn’t really make Klaus all too happy, you know?

But that didn’t mean he wanted to see her hurt. Or dead. Especially dead. She  _ was  _ still his sister. 

He didn’t believe Ben, not at first. Vanya wouldn’t-- she couldn’t. And even if she could, he didn’t want to care. It was too hard. It opened up the potential for too much pain. It was easier to numb himself. 

But Ben had gotten good at the guilt thing. It wouldn’t work for most things, not anymore, but this? When Klaus already had half a mind to help? 

What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

And yet he had doubts as he stood in front of Vanya’s door. 

He knocked three times, loudly, and when a minute passed without reply, he had a moment of fear that she had gone through with it, that he’d been too late. Then Ben had phased through the door and back, and he reported that she looked like she had just woken up.

“Well, see? All fine, time to go.”

“Klaus…”

“Ben!” he whined. “Please. I don’t want--”

“She needs you, Klaus.”

He knew that. Of course he knew that. But he also saw Vanya’s face in his mind’s eye and a stab of pain went through him that he didn’t want to face. 

Seeing his hesitation, Ben got frustrated, and suddenly the ghost of his brother was knocking on the door. 

It was a brief knock, only lasting a moment before his solidity lapsed and his hand passed through the door. 

How the fuck did he do that?

That wasn’t the important thing though. Not right then, not to Klaus.

“Seriously? What the fuck, Ben?”

The door opened. 

“Klaus?”

Fuck; Vanya looked like shit. Tired and bleary-eyed and like she wanted nothing more than to let the weight pressing on her shoulders finally drag her down under the surface of the world. 

But that wasn’t his fault, he tried to remind himself.  _ He  _ didn’t do that to her. She did it to herself.

“Hi, Vanya!” he tried to inject as much positivity into his voice as he could, to maintain the cheerful facade that he’d spent so long carefully constructing. “Dear sister of mine. My darling, darling--”

“Focus, Klaus,” Ben prompted him, and Klaus coughed. 

“How you doin’?”

Vanya looked uncomfortable. She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Did you— why don’t you come in?”

She stepped back to allow space for him to move, and he was hesitant to take it, but did anyway, slowly stepping into the familiar apartment.

She hadn’t changed much of it since he’d last been there, he noticed. He’d thought that, with the money from the book, she’d maybe get some new furniture or something, but no. There was that same old plain, admittedly comfy sofa. The same old plain armchair was there too, now on a different side of the couch, and the coffee table hadn’t moved or changed at all. Her television set was the same outdated model as before. The paint was the same, peeling, off-white. 

Vanya was the only thing that seemed to have changed, and that was only in how tired she seemed to be. 

And god did he understand  _ that. _

Klaus didn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable on the armchair, sprawling over it with one leg draped across an armrest.

“So…” Vanya started as she sat on the couch. “What are you doing here?” She sounded as tired as she looked, and her question was hesitant and guarded. 

Like she was expecting him to yell at her. 

Which was fair, he had to admit, given there was a part of him that really did want to. He resisted the urge though, and shrugged. 

“Just wanted to check in on my favorite little author. How’s the famous life treating you?”

He couldn’t help the venom in his voice, but he felt kind of bad about it when she grimaced and looked down, dejected.

“So that’s why you’re here. I’d… I was hoping you hadn’t read it.”

“You wrote a book, Vanya. Of course I read it.”

“I know, I know. I just… I was holding on to the hope that at least one of my siblings wouldn’t hate me now. I guess…” She sighed heavily and straightened in her seat. “If you’re going to yell at me, can you get it over with now? Or we could just… I mean, I know what I did and I know how awful it was. If you’re okay with it, we could just skip the yelling and go straight to you walking out and swearing never to speak to me again.”

Ben was giving him this smug, pained look, and Klaus hated it, but even he had to admit that seeing Vanya with this level of pained regret  _ hurt _ . 

He hadn’t expected the visit to be this painful.

“I don’t… Vanya…”

“No, it’s fine. I get it, Klaus, I do. I fucked up. I know that. I’m just having trouble trying to figure out why you bothered coming by.”

He shrugged. “I had a feeling that you needed some company.”

That feeling had a name, of course, and from the look on Ben’s face, he was none too pleased at going unmentioned, but Klaus thought his brother would thank him when he explained that Vanya might not really take well to being spied on. Fuck knew it didn’t really make him all too happy, and he usually knew that he was being watched. 

“A… feeling?”

Klaus shrugged again, and watched as the tendons in Vanya’s neck stiffened. 

“I need— Klaus, I know I don’t deserve it but I need you to tell me the truth, okay?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Klaus joked, knowing full well that he had, and that she knew it too. Vanya’s face took on a pinched look. 

“Please, Klaus. Tell me, honestly…. Was it Ben? Did he… you can see him, can’t you? I mean, it’d stand to reason, given… given everything you can do. And I thought I’d… I don’t know, felt him, I guess? And I was…. It doesn’t matter. Just, please. Was it Ben?”

Ben’s face split into a wide grin. “She knows, Klaus. Tell her. Tell her I’m here. That I love her. Klaus--”

“Do you think I want to be your mediator?” he hissed, and Vanya looked confused for a moment, before she also smiled. Her grin was much more hesitant, much more reluctant, like she didn’t want the hope. 

Klaus had seen that smile before. It wasn’t rare when you spent so much time on the streets. 

“Ben? Are you talking to him now? Is he… is he here?”

Klaus groaned. He knew where this was going. 

Vanya may have been ignored her entire childhood, but Klaus was more than used to people seeing him without really seeing him. No one had forgotten his existence when they were kids, but everyone had dismissed him. And maybe part of it was his own fault. He crafted a mask that made sure people wouldn’t want to look too closely, but he couldn’t lie—it wasn’t like he liked that they met his expectations. 

Part of why he hadn’t told his family that he could see Ben was because he didn’t think they’d believe him. The other part of it was because he knew that, then, the only reason they’d talk to him would be in order to talk to Ben. 

They’d always looked right through him. If they knew, it would probably get even worse. 

Although…

This was Vanya. Not only was this Vanya, but this was a depressed, lonely, potentially suicidal Vanya whose primary comfort had been thinking she was talking to Ben. He couldn’t… he should do at least this much for her, right? 

“He’s here,” he finally admitted. “He says he loves you.” Klaus’s tone was sarcastic, mocking and rude. Maybe if he was mean about it, he could keep the mediator stint to a one-time gig. 

He felt bad about that when he saw Vanya’s face fall, just a little bit, behind the eyes. Her smile faded, just a fraction, then fully. 

“Okay, I get it,” she said. Then, under her breath, “Did you have to be such a dick about it?”

She looked like she regretted it as soon as she said it, so Klaus didn’t take too much offense. 

“No, I just—look. I didn’t mean to sound so… Okay, no so maybe I did mean it like that. I just… I don’t want this to become a thing, okay? Yes, I can see Ben. That doesn’t mean I want everything to be about passing along his messages to you.”

“Hey!” Ben protested. “See how it feels to spend your entire afterlife with no one to talk to but your pain in the ass brother, then tell me you don’t want to pass messages when I finally have something to say.

Vanya, meanwhile, looked offended. “I wouldn’t… Klaus, I’m was a selfish bitch with that book, I know that, but that doesn’t mean that I’d use you as a… what did you call it, a mediator? I wouldn’t just use you as a mediator and then toss you the second I had nothing left to say to Ben. When have I ever given you the indication that I would ever…” 

And then Ben was giving him an affronted glare, because “God, Klaus. You were supposed to be here to help her, not make her feel like garbage,” and Klaus was just… done.

“Oh my god. Will you stop? Like I don’t have enough ghosts yelling at me; now I get my sister doing it too? And Ben—I’ve had just about enough of your nagging. Will you both just… stop? Please?”

Then Vanya was silent and looking intensely guilty and Ben was unimpressed and Klaus was going to try and smooth over the ruffled feathers when Vanya spoke.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t— I’m sorry. Just… look, do you need a place to stay the night? I’ve got some spare blankets in the closet; you can take the couch.”

Klaus didn’t want to say yes. He didn’t. But Vanya’s apartment was warm and the couch was soft and he was so fucking tired… 

“Thank you. I… yeah. That’d be great, Van.”

She nodded and stood, leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a thick quilt and a pillow, which she laid out over the couch. 

“Bathroom’s over there. There’s a blue towel folded next to the tub that’s clean if you want a shower. I’m gonna… I need to sleep. Just… stay? Please? Can we finish talking about this in the morning?”

Klaus found himself nodding, and she nodded back, then turned to leave. 

“Van?”

“Hmm?” she turned back.

“Ben… he does love you. He’s the reason I came here. He… he was worried about you.”

She offered a wry grin. “That’s sweet. Really, though, he… I’m fine. There’s no reason to be too concerned.”

“He heard you—”

“In a moment of weakness,” she interrupted. “I’m not gonna… I promise, Klaus. I’m okay. And Ben… I love you too.”

She left the room and closed the door to her bedroom.

Ben exchanged a worried look with Klaus as he stood to make use of the shower on offer. 

“She’s lying.”

“I know,” Klaus admitted. “But I know for a fact that you can’t push this stuff. All you’ll end up doing is pushing her away.”

He and Vanya really were shockingly similar. 

* * *

_ Vanya _

She would’ve thought Klaus coming by the night before had been a dream if it hadn’t been for the blanket sitting neatly folded on the coffee table, pillow on top of it. 

When she went to pick it up, it smelled like him, like cigarette smoke and a little bit of pot and her coconut shampoo. So he’d stayed the night then. He must’ve woken up early to head out. Probably wanted to avoid the awkward conversation.

She was still struggling to understand why he’d cared enough to show up. Pity, probably. If Ben really had heard everything she’d monologued about, then he probably just felt guilty and made Klaus feel the same way so that he would come and no one would have to feel guilty anymore. 

It made more sense than them caring. 

Vanya turned around and headed for her kitchen cabinet to get out a box of cereal. She paused after opening it. 

The cookie jar was on the wrong shelf. 

She pulled it down and lifted the lid. The two hundred dollars she kept inside the jar were gone, and in the money’s stead was a message, written on the ripped out dedication page of her book. 

_ Vanya,  _

_ I won’t say I’m okay with it, because I’m not. That book fucking hurt. But then, you knew that. It was your intention, after all, wasn’t it? _

_ That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be okay. I do love you. I mean, you’re my sister.  _

_ I couldn’t stay. I can’t sit there in front of you and pretend seeing you doesn’t hurt. But I wanted you to know that I get it. I get why you wrote the book, and I get what you wanted and I get that you regret it. I think that might be the only reason I can handle forgiving you.  _

_ I forgive you, Vanya, and I love you. But I can’t forget. And I can’t be there.  _

_ Be safe. Stick around. I’ll be looking out for you. _

_ ~Klaus _

Vanya smiled. She’d hoped he’d find the money. God knew he’d never just accept it, but he’d steal it in a second, and she had to make sure he had the money to get food somehow. 

It sucked that he hadn’t stuck around. The apartment without him was as cold as it ever was before, and she was as lonely as she’d ever been. She wished he’d come back. SHe could deal with his anger as long as he was there. 

But behind the icy loneliness and the freezing drugs and the numbness and the nothing was a tiny spark of warmth. One tiny flicker of something that made her want to eat her breakfast and go to work and come home and keep going until finally, one day, he did come back. Because he had to. He’d come back. Now she had that flicker.

Hope was such a stupid, strong, inextinguishable flame, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know the reconciliation is something most people wanted, but they're both emotionally constipated and that letter only worked because he didn't have to look at her when he wrote it. They were never going to be completely fine. 
> 
> He didn't leave because he couldn't handle it. He left because he didn't want to push her away by pushing her to admit she wasn't okay before she was ready. He was wrong, but he was trying. 
> 
> This came about because I noticed that Klaus seemed pretty okay with Vanya, in a way no one else was, and it implied some level of closure. So this is it. This is their closure. I know it's not much. It doesn't seem like much of anything. But at least they started. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my theory is that she can sense Ben because of the way her sound-related powers work-- ghosts will cause minor disturbances in the sound field, which she can then sense. It's not constant, but it happens. In no way, shape, or form, can she see or actually communicate with the dead. 
> 
> I hope to put up the next chapter next week. This should only be two or three chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment? Tell me if I should even bother with this?


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